


When Clint met Phil

by orderlychaos



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Coulson is mysterious, First Impressions, First Meetings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-06
Updated: 2012-04-06
Packaged: 2017-11-03 04:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/376999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orderlychaos/pseuds/orderlychaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keeping his eyes on the liquid in his glass, Clint watched sidelong as the Suit settled casually onto the barstool next to him.  Clint cut him off before the suit could speak.  “I don’t care what multi-lettered agency you work for.  I’m not interested,” he said in a low voice.</p>
<p>My take on Clint and Phil's first meeting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Clint met Phil

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [[翻译]When Clint Met Phil/ 当Clint遇上Phil](https://archiveofourown.org/works/511052) by [ahenghere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahenghere/pseuds/ahenghere)



> I know this has been done a bunch of times before (by some very talented people), but I couldn't resist doing a little scene about the first time Clint met Phil.

 

Clint Barton stared at the dirty glass sitting on the scarred bar in front of him and waited.  He was good at waiting.  It was part of what made him a good sniper.  The other part was being observant and he’d spotted the guy in the suit watching him an hour ago.  Clint was willing to bet it was the same guy who’d been trailing him for the last two days.

The Suit finally made his move as Clint slammed back his shot and waved the bartender down for another.  Clint watched him out of the corner of his eye as he approached.  The Suit’s gait was fluid and controlled, his reflexes quick as he side-stepped a drunk and Clint was willing to bet he’d be deadly in a brawl.

His suit was expensive and impeccable, even in a dive like this, and Clint had already spotted the faint bulge of a shoulder holster under the jacket.  All in all, for a suit, he was kind of hot – all dressed up and proper with the hint of danger underneath.  Clint wouldn’t have minded meeting him under different circumstances.

Keeping his eyes on the liquid in his glass, Clint watched sidelong as the Suit settled casually onto the barstool next to him.  Clint cut him off before the suit could speak.  “I don’t care what multi-lettered agency you work for.  I’m not interested,” he said in a low voice.

The Suit turned to look at him and neither his expression nor his sharp grey eyes give anything away.  Nevertheless, Clint got the impression he was amused.  The Suit didn’t say anything for a moment, instead waving down the bartender to wordlessly order a shot of what Clint was drinking.

_Interesting_ , Clint thought.  _The suits didn’t usually order hard liquor in grimy glasses_.  Most of the ones that had tried to recruit Clint in the past had either eyed everything and everyone nervously or tried to avoid touching as many things as possible.

“You haven’t even heard my offer yet,” the Suit said blandly when the bartender had left them alone again.  Then, to Clint’s surprise, the Suit tossed back his drink without a wince.

No matter how suddenly intriguing the man in the suit was, Clint still didn’t want whatever job he was peddling.  Clint liked working for himself.  It was better for everyone that way.

“Well, how about I tell you how it goes, huh?” Clint said.  “You and the people you work for have seen the way I shoot.  You’ve read my file.  You think I’d make a great asset – and you’re willing to overlook my past and my issues with authority because you’re convinced I’m just waiting for the _right person_ to give me orders.”

The Suit seemed unmoved by Clint’s sarcasm.  Instead, he arched an eyebrow and dared to look amused by the rant.  “Is that so?” he said mildly.

“Yeah,” Clint growled softly in reply.  Suits were always the same, always wanting him to do his patriotic duty or some other bullshit and Clint ignored the little voice in his head that said maybe this one wasn’t like all the other ones.  “But unlike you, I didn’t join the army straight after high school to make my Daddy proud and I don’t have a corner office where I fill out paperwork like a good boy.  And I certainly don’t go around calling people ‘sir’ and helping little old ladies across the street.”

The Suit looked like he wanted to argue.  “Are you going to tell me I’m wrong?” Clint challenged.

“Yes,” the Suit said.  “I was in the Marines.”

Clint blinked.  Usually his attitude sent the suits packing, or at the very least grinding their teeth in anger, but this one seemed completely unruffled.  In fact, Clint would swear the corners of his mouth were almost tipping up in a smile.

The Suit threw money enough to cover his drink on the bar and Clint felt faintly disappointed.  Even though he didn’t want the job, he’d expected more persistence and maybe even a little bribery until he was dismissed as a lost cause.  “That’s it?” he said.  “You’re leaving?”

The Suit smiled.  “I thought I’d let you two catch up,” he said, nodding to someone behind Clint.  “She’ll tell you where you need to be in the morning.  If you want the job, of course.”

Clint followed his gaze wondering what the hell the Suit was attempting to do and caught sight of red hair and familiar sharp eyes.  He hadn’t seen Natasha Romanov in two years, not since three snowy weeks in Russia that passed as a hazy blur of bandages, vodka and ex-KGB agents.  As bribery went, Clint had to admit he was impressed.

When he turned back, the Suit was gone.  Clint blinked.  That was some ninja shit right there.  Natasha smoothly slid onto the barstool the Suit had so recently vacated and sent Clint a sidelong smirk.  “His name is Agent Phil Coulson,” she said.  “He once killed three men with a pencil.”

She turned to him and gave him a mysterious smile that would make the Mona Lisa jealous.  “You’d like him,” she added.

Clint had to admit, she had a point.  He _did_ like the Suit – Coulson.  And working with someone like that had to be worth the risk, didn’t it?  “So, tell me, Tasha,” he said.  “Who exactly _do_ you work for..?”

 

The End


End file.
